


Baby You're a Firework (too loud and too bright)

by darknessandrageandkittens



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, actual sunshine foggy nelson, let's face it the fourth of july is by far matt's least favorite holiday, matt is a grumpy salty nerd baby, this was supposed to be a gen drabble but here we are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darknessandrageandkittens/pseuds/darknessandrageandkittens
Summary: Matthew Murdock does not like Independence Day. Not the movie, that's a classic, the actual holiday. Super senses are not his friend.Foggy Nelson, on the other hand, loves it.





	Baby You're a Firework (too loud and too bright)

**Author's Note:**

> Matthew Murdock is having a Gay Crisis and a panic attack at the same time and they're both your fault Foggy  
> First chapter takes place during their college years

It wasn’t so much that Matt hated the Fourth of July. He didn’t, exactly. Truth, justice, the American Way, blah blah blah, he was all for it. He was studying to be a lawyer, after all! Patriotism was great in moderation. 

Matt just didn’t understand why not having to use extra vowels meant everyone went batshit in the loudest, smelliest, drunkest way possible.

“Matty!” Foggy laughed, pulling on his arm as they stumbled across the local park. “Matty-Matty-Matty-Matt! Matthew! Matt!”

“I’m right here, bud.”

“Matt. The fireworks this year are supposed to kick ass. It’s gonna be so awesome, Matty, so…So cool. AMERICA!”

“America.” 

Matt tried to swerve to avoid the equally inebriated couple headed for them without giving up the illusion that it was Foggy leading them around. Foggy laughed as he half tripped into him. Matt faintly wished he could be half as drunk as his roommate, before thinking better of it when said roommate tried to steer him into what smelled like a rose bush.

“Fog, you know- Excuse us, thanks- You know I can’t actually see the fireworks, right?”

“Well, duh,” Foggy scoffed, “ But you can still hear them!”

Which was precisely the problem. The previous two days had been bad enough with all the illegally obtained mini-shows blaring up around town. The smell of gunpowder, the loud bangs, all of them had been keeping him awake, rattling his senses. Half the time he was convinced they were gunshots, but what could he do? How could he be sure? This time of year was hell.

So of course his best friend loved it.

“Don’ worry, Matty-cake. I’ll tell you what they look like, ‘s gonna be. Gonna be AWESOME! Oh cool there’s a spot over there by that girl from Punjabi. One sec. HEY!”

“Awesome,” he muttered miserably as he was dragged towards the current object of his partner’s affections. He dropped the blanket on the grass while Foggy flirted with whatever-her-name-was.

That was another thing, who wanted to sit on the lumpy hard ground while having their eardrums blown out anyway. This was stupid. The whole holiday was stupid, and the founding fathers were stupid, and-

“What’s wrong with your roommate, he looks ready to punch someone.”

“Who, Matt? Nah, he’s harmless!” Foggy laughed, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Harmless,” Matt grumbled. “That’s me.”

“He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t really like this time of year. All the noise and none of the fun, y’know?”

“He’s sitting. Right here.”

“That you are, Matty, that you are.”

The girl giggled and turned back to whatever she was doing. Probably something stupid. Foggy turned to face him with what was no doubt a huge grin on his face.

“Just so you know, I’m smiling at you. Full cheese.”

“I figured,” he muttered, running his fingers through the soft grass. At least this part wasn’t so bad. It was nice and lush and it smelled good. Shame it was layered by beer and smoke and hot dogs and sweat and gunpowder and excitement and desperation. 

Everyone around him was talking and yelling and cheering and singing and at least 20 different people had brought radios and they were all playing different music way too loud and somewhere in the distance a band was playing some kind of tribute to american tunes and the fireworks hadn’t even started yet but his head was aching and-

A hand closed over his, startling him out of his inward spiral.

“Hey, seriously. Thanks for coming with me. I know you hate this stuff, it really means a lot.”

Matt’s face burned. He probably looked like an idiot. He squeezed the hand back.

“It’s no problem, Fog. Anything to get out of writing that essay for Professor Kaprowski.”

Foggy snorted, then rummaged through his bag for something.

“Here we go,” he muttered, bringing out something clunky. Foggy grabbed his hand again, opening his fingers and placing something plastic and clunky into them.

“My headphones.” Matt was surprised, but he probably shouldn’t have been. Of course he would think of that. That’s just the kind of person his roommate was.

“I figure if you need these just because Joe and Terry are having a party four dorms down, then this is gonna be hell. Soooooo, headphones! For you. Surprised you didn’t grab them yourself, dummy.”

“I guess, I just didn’t think of it,” he murmured, slipping them over his ears. Everything quieted to a dull roar. Matt felt himself start to relax for the first time all evening. He let out a small sigh. “Thanks, bud.”

“Can you even hear me with those things on, Matt?”

“Yeah, Fog. I can hear you.”

“Cool. You hungry, ‘cause the show’s gonna start soon and right now’s when all the hot dogs go on sale.”

“Mmkay.”

Foggy got up and ambled his way to the food booth, leaving Matt to focus on re-centering.

“Soooooo. You’re the roommate, huh.” 

It was what’s-her-name. Punjabi girl.

“That I am,” Matt nodded.

“He talks about you all the time. Matty, right?”

He tensed at the nickname.

“Matt, actually. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh. S-Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied easily.

“I just hear Foggy talk about you so much, I feel like I already know you!”

Matt hummed noncommittally. He wondered when Foggy would be back with the food. She seemed nice enough but he didn’t want to make small talk with another one of his girlfriends. He could pretend to like her on another, less stressful day.

“He really cares about you,” she continued, ignoring his lack of response.

Matt softened. “I know. “

Too much, in Matt’s opinion. Foggy’s heart was a big open wound waiting for someone to come along and poke it till it bled. He was gonna get hurt and it was gonna be Matt’s fault, he just knew it. Unfortunately, Matt was a terrible Catholic and incredibly selfish. He wasn’t about to let his friendship go now.

“Does-” her voice cut through his reverie- “Does he ever talk about me?” She sounded nervous. Her heart was racing.

Yes, Matt thinks, all the time. He never shuts up about you. He thinks you’re smart and pretty and he wants to ask you out but he’s nervous. He took a whole class just to get the guts to talk to you because that’s the kind of person he is.

He shrugs instead, and feels guilty for a second when her heart drops. But only for a second. Not nearly as long as it would be if he was an actual good person.

“I guess.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks, I guess.”

She got up and started picking up her things.

“Aren’t you staying for the show.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I just. I think I see a better spot over there. A better view. Um. Tell Foggy I said good night.” And with that she wandered away, leaving a trail of pain behind her.

Matt frowned. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, exactly. Although if that’s all it took to scare her off, then she wasn’t really the one. Foggy deserved someone who would stick through it even if it meant going to a stupid fireworks show and suffering a stupid migraine and sitting on the stupid ground-shit. Shit, he should go after her and apologize. Before he could get up, however, Foggy returned with his hot dogs.

“Sorry, pal,” he said cheerfully, “The line was crazy, but I got your dogs! Hey, where’d Elena go?”

He craned his neck looking for her, trying to spot her in the crowds.

Elena. That was her name.

“She said she saw a spot with a better view. Sorry, Fog.”

“Nah, it’s ok,” Foggy sighed. “Damn. And I was just working up the guts to ask her out. Guess it’s a sign from the universe.”

“Guess so.” Matt tried not to smile.

“Oh well.” Foggy sank down on the blanket and leaned against him, solid and warm and still tipsy. “At least I still got you, babe.”

“Be still my heart,” Matt snarked. “I’ll put that on the wedding invites. ‘No one else would put up with him, so I guess we’re getting hitched.’ I’m sure your mother would weep for joy.”

“Oh, please. If anyone puts up with anyone in this relationship, it’s me. And don’t even front, my mother loves you. I’m pretty sure she tried to legally exchange me for you last Thanksgiving.”

Matt beamed, shaking his head.

The first firework went off, shaking the ground with a loud boom. Matt winced. The headphones helped, but it was still so much louder than it had the right to be, and the stench of smoke and powder had him almost gagging.

Foggy let out a gasp of delight, laughing into the night air.

“It’s a green one. Big and sparkly.”

Matt nodded, bracing himself for the next blast. He didn’t have to wait long. He felt his whole body jolt. He curled in on himself.

“It’s one of those tiny ones that make a small burst but a big sound, it’s like watching a star die.”

“Sounds cool, buddy,” Matt muttered, eyes tightly closed. The world on fire, on fire, wasn’t something he was eager to see.

“Hey, are you ok Matt? We can go home, it’s ok.”

“I’m just cold,” he mumbled, shoving the hot dog into his mouth to prevent any more words from spilling out.

“Is that all, buddy? Ya shoulda said so!” Foggy laughed, before draping something soft and warm over him. It smelled like laundry soap and doritos and Foggy. His hoodie. 

Matt shoved himself into it and pulled his knees to his chest before leaning back against his best friend. So he wouldn’t get cold. Yeah. That was why. Stick would be ashamed of him. Then again, Stick never had a Foggy Nelson, so fuck Stick, Matt thought bitterly. The rockets kept blasting away, rattling Matt’s brain inside his skull but it was fine.  
This was fine. The smell of Foggy’s hoodie helped cover up the thick burnt smell in the air, and the noise cancelling headphones cut out a lot of the roar, and Foggy’s voice helped keep him centered, so this was fine. This was-Matt was shaking. He couldn’t breathe.

“Matty.”

“What,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Matty, you don’t look so good.”

“Gee, thanks, Fog. I can’t see you but I’m sure you look like a million bucks right now.”

“Ok, that’s it. Get up, Matty, we’re leaving.”

Matt frowned, shaking his head.

“You want to see the fireworks.”

“Yeah, well I want my best friend to not hate me more.”

Hate him? No one could ever hate Foggy, it was physically impossible or something. He knew that, right?

“I could never hate you, Foggy. I don’t mind, really, we can stay.” He tried not to sound too eager to relent, like a good lawyer.

He heard his heartbeat pick up and wondered what caused it.

“Yeah, well. Right back at you, buddy. But seriously, I’ve seen fireworks every year since I was, like, born. I’m not missing much. So c’mon.”

Matt relented and let Foggy guide him back to the car.

“Ok, pal. Ok. Let’s go home.”


End file.
